Dandy Jim and the Change of Heart
by MaverickLover2
Summary: The years have gone by without a solution to the incident that broke up the Buckley-Maverick friendship. When word reaches Bart that Dandy Jim is in dire straits, he must finally make a decision – resolve the incident once and for all or lose the chance . . . forever.
1. Prologue

Prologue

There was a time in my life when I'd called Jim Buckley friend. When he came to me in desperate need of help, I found a way to offer that help. I will admit it wasn't one-sided; the assistance I gave Jim was beneficial to some of the nearest and dearest people in my life. Me included. But Jim had taken advantage of the attempt to make things good for all involved in the effort, and there was a sad outcome to the whole debacle – I ran the man that used to be my friend out of town. It might not have been the best of solutions, but it solved the immediate problem.

Time passed; more time than I cared to admit. There had been encounters of one kind or another over the years, but we'd never truly recovered the relationship we had when we were younger. We tended to ignore what happened and act as if there was nothing wrong, but it was obvious there was still a large bone of contention between us. I married and started a family; Jim had a life of his own. I'd hear that he was here or there, doing this or that, but somehow we never seemed to run into each other save for one incident . . . and I've related that story in a different place and time.

And then, without warning, I heard something I didn't like and I couldn't abide. The story was that Dandy Jim Buckley . . . was dying. No one knew how or when it started, and no one seemed to know how or when it would end. But I knew I had to write my own ending to it, and not let fate create a scenario that I might regret the rest of my life. To that end I sent out the word that wherever Jim was, I needed to find him. And it had to be soon.


	2. I Heard it Through the Grapevine

Chapter 1 – I Heard it Through the Grapevine

It was one of those days when I went into Maude's to see how everything was going. Maude's is the best and brightest saloon for two hundred miles, and I'm Bart Maverick. Just in case you wondered.

I started out in life as the second son of a professional poker player; one of the very best in the whole western United States, named Beauregard Maverick, or Pappy as we call him. For the first many years of my adult life, my brother Bret and me made our living the same way, playing poker. Honest poker. Eventually, we both got married and settled down, and I took over running my mother-in-law's saloon, Maude's. We raised families and finally went into the horse-ranching business, but I still oversee Maude's and come into town about once a week to spend a day with the old girl and make sure she's 'up to snuff.' The saloon, I mean, not my mother-in-law.

We used to own a house right up the street from Maude's, until it got too small and we built the horse ranch, the B Bar M. Sometimes I miss those days, when all I had to do was walk down the boardwalk for a minute or two and roll in the batwing doors. But when you're raising a whole herd of little ones, both human and equine, you need more room than you can get in town. So now I either had to saddle the horse or hitch up the buggy to go into Little Bend. This morning it was the buggy, and I'd had time to daydream all the way in.

Everything had gone smoothly, just like it always did, and I was finishing up the last of the required paperwork when Dave Parker appeared at my office door. Dave's been sheriff here in Little Bend, Texas for a long time, and remains a good friend. He's a little older than me, but we practically grew up together, and he always comes by when I'm here working. Usually he was whistling or humming, but this morning he was dead quiet. That was not a good sign.

"Morning, sheriff. How goes it this mornin'?"

Dave still didn't speak, just walked into my office and sat down in front of the desk. In just a minute Billy Upshaw hurried in, carrying two steaming cups of coffee. He set one down in front of me and the other in front of Dave, and it was only then that I saw the brandy bottle tucked under Billy's arm. That was the second warning I'd gotten that something wasn't quite right. Billy poured a shot into Dave's coffee and then set the bottle down next to my cup, sign number three that something unusual was going on.

Before I could open my mouth to ask, Dave was pointing at the bottle. "You might wanna consider that this morning."

"Is it that bad?" I had to ask.

"Depends," Dave answered cryptically. "You and Buckley still friends?"

Buckley. Now there was a name I hadn't heard in quite a while. "In a manner of speaking. Why?" I picked up my coffee and took a swallow. Billy made the best coffee.

"Last night I had to haul Old Man Sharp out of the Little Bend Bar. He was too drunk to stand up by himself. Finally started babbling about this letter he got from Ray Ames. Said Ray was happy livin' with his daughter in Colorado and that he'd run into an old friend of yours there – Jim Buckley."

"Where in Colorado, did he say?" I was curious, I will admit.

"Grand Junction. It's almost on the Utah border." I noticed Dave poured another shot of brandy into what was left of his coffee. Kinda early for that, isn't it, Dave?

If he was waiting for me to say anything about Buckley, or ask anything about him, Dave was gonna be disappointed. That didn't appear to be the case, however, as the sheriff kept right on talking. "Bart – Sharp said Ray heard some news about Buckley that he thought you should know."

"What would that be, Dave?" I expected almost anything other than what I heard next.

"Ray said that Buckley . . . well, he heard that somethin's wrong with Buckley, and Buckley's dying."

I heard the words. I heard exactly what Parker said. Every . . . single . . . syllable. Something was wrong with Jim Buckley, and Buckley was dying. I just sat there, not making a sound. It took a minute before I could answer Dave.

"He . . . has something? What is it that he's got, Dave? What's wrong with Buckley?"

Dave looked at me with a mixture of pity, sorrow, and sadness. "I don't know any more than that, Bart. You can wire Ray at General Delivery and see if he knows anything else, but that's all Sharp could tell me."

My mind was trying to process what Dave initially told me. Jim Buckley had 'something,' and he was dying. Forty-five minutes later I was still sittin' at my desk, starin' off into space. Feeling like I was in a trance of some kind, I eventually found myself at the Wells Fargo office, ready to send a telegram to Ray. I hoped he could answer my questions, or at least the important ones.

I did my best to work the rest of the day but found myself thinking about all the trouble we'd gotten into over the years, and all the trouble we'd caused. No matter what I started with, I kept coming back to that last, sad day when I ran Dandy out of town and told him not to come back. If what I'd heard earlier was accurate, did I want the sight of Buckley's horse leaving Little Bend to be the last image I remember seeing?

For the first time in years I spent the whole evening closed up in my office at home. Our babies weren't little anymore; no one needed tucking in, and it was almost midnight before I knew it. There was a soft knock at the door, and I knew it was Doralice before I saw the door swing open. "Kind of late, isn't it, handsome?"

"Sorry, I've got a lot on my mind." Not entirely true. I had but one thing on my mind, and that was Jim and his health. I didn't want to bring him up until I had further word from Ray about what was actually going on in Colorado.

"Something bothering you? Can I help?" There was that look in her eyes, and that tone in her voice, reminding me that this was a partnership, and she was the other partner.

"No, sweetheart. I don't have all the facts on this one yet. I'll let you know when I do."

"Are you coming to bed?"

I shook my head. "Not right now. I'll be along soon." I thought I caught a flash of disappointment on her face, but she smiled at me before closing the door. I still loved her fiercely, but even the thought of my beautiful wife in my arms couldn't wipe the worry from my mind. Sometime not long after that I fell asleep with my head on my desk and spent the rest of the night dreaming about the old days, and Buckley.


	3. In Dreams

Chapter 2 – In Dreams

Of course I woke the next morning with a stiff neck and a wife that was either worried or not speaking to me. I was relieved to find she was conversing just fine.

After the herd was all out of the way, we sat down with a cup of coffee. "Want to talk about it?"

I shook my head. "I really don't, but I guess we should. Parker came to see me yesterday. He had some news from Ray in Colorado."

That look of concern was back full force. "Not bad news, I hope."

"I sent a telegram to Ray to get some more information." I knew she wouldn't let it go at that, but I thought I'd give it a try.

"What's wrong, Bart? You're being evasive. Information about whom?"

"Buckley."

"Dandy Jim? You haven't heard from him in ages. What's it about?"

I hesitated before answering her. "According to what Ray heard, Buckley's dying."

"Are . . . are you sure?"

"No, I haven't gotten a response yet. But . . . "

"What are you gonna do if it is?"

Two or three minutes passed before I gave her an answer. "I don't know yet."

Before we got any further, Tim Demerest came in the back door. Tim was like a son to both me and Bret, and he was our Breeding Program Manager. "Telegram got delivered this morning. Thought you'd want to see it right away." He handed it to Doralice, who was closest to the door, tipped his hat and left as quickly as he came. One of the things I love about Tim – he doesn't waste time.

Doralice gave it to me. I opened it and read it through twice, then handed it back. Blue-eyes read it; when she looked back at me there were tears visible. "So it's true."

"It would seem so." The wire was brief and to the point _. 'Buckley sick, dying. Don't know what or when. Ray.'_ With nothing else to do, I got up and poured us more coffee. That quickly, my mind was made up. "I have to go see him, Doralice. There's . . . unfinished business."

She took my hand in hers. "I always suspected there was something that needed to be settled."

"I'll have to get Maude's set up for my absence. I could be gone for a while. Are you alright with that?"

"Take whatever time you need. You know I can handle Maude's if needs be."

She absolutely amazed me. All these years of loving her, and I still couldn't get over how quick she was to step up and take care of all of the rest of us. Doralice was, and always had been, the perfect woman for me. I'll never understand why it took me so long to recognize how special she was, what an incredible heart and soul she had. And, for some reason, she loved me.

"You've got enough to take care of. But I'll make sure Billy knows to come to you if he has any problems." Billy is Billy Sunday, my Saloon Manager. He's been with us a long time now, and I had no doubt he could handle anything that came up. But the final authority was, and always would be, Doralice. "Is there anything I need to do with the kids before I go? At school or anyplace else?"

Doralice looked thoughtful for a minute before shaking her head. "Nope. Everything is fine." While we'd been talking, she'd migrated from the kitchen chair to my arms, where she resided now. "Be careful and give James my best." And then in my ear I heard, "I love you very much. Just come back to me."

I kissed her and held her as close to me as possible. This was not going to be an easy trip or a pleasant task, and I needed to absorb as much of her love and warmth as I could. After all these years, it was time to deal with Dandy Jim's betrayal of our friendship . . . and what the future held for each of us.

XXXXXXXX

It didn't take much to make sure Maude's would function fine without me. Billy was on top of everything, and it wasn't the same as those early days when I'd had to take over running the saloon. It helped that we had a new Bank President, Robert James McNair, and he had no pre-conceived ideas about who was and wasn't fit to call the shots at Maude's.

I saw Dave Parker, and let him know I was gonna be gone for a while. The same with Simon Petry. Having wrapped up everything that needed my attention, I headed back to the ranch. There were a few things Bret needed to know before I left the following morning.

I was awake early the next day and was surprised to find Doralice already up and cooking breakfast. "You hungry?" she asked as I appeared in the kitchen, and I kissed the back of her neck and murmured, "I am if there's a blonde on the menu." Thanks to a miniature Maverick stampede the only things on the menu that morning were eggs and biscuits. Oh, and one of Lucy's newest batch of kittens, a little fella we'd named Jeb, who'd already discovered the joys of unfinished breakfasts.

Once everyone was out the door and it was just the two of us again, Doralice got awfully quiet. "Bart, I had the strangest dream last night."

I almost laughed out loud. If my beautiful wife could have seen some of the dreams I'd had over the years . . . still, I could tell she wanted to share this one with me. "What was it about, blue-eyes?"

"Not what . . . who. It was about . . . Dandy."

That didn't seem strange at all, considering that Dandy had been our main topic of conversation for most of the last two days. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"Well, yes, I'd like to. I can't imagine what it means."

" _Are you sure you can't stay for the wedding, James?" Doralice was more than a little disappointed to see the Englishman leave before she and Bart married. He had given no explanation for his sudden departure, only saying he needed to leave immediately._

 _James turned from his horse with a heavy sigh. "Alas, my dear lady, I regret I cannot."_

 _James reached for her hand, and Doralice felt heat slowly spread across her cheeks as he planted a kiss on the back of it. Who was James Buckley? In the time he'd been around she still couldn't answer that question. The only thing she knew was never before had she encountered a man so smooth, so charming; so debonair._

" _I'm sure it would mean the world to Bart if you could stay." And me, she silently added, wondering who Jim's presence would really mean the most to._

 _He released her hand and smiled; he had a dazzling smile. "If only I could. He is indeed a fortunate man to have won a prize such as you."_

 _She laughed, her cheeks reddening again. What was it about him that caused her to react like a giggling school girl? He was a truly fascinating man, so very different from Bart, and yet there was also something about him that made her think of her future husband._

" _I'm fortunate myself to have caught him." And she meant those words with every fiber of her being. She'd never imagined she could find someone like Bart to spend her life with; if only James could stay a little longer._

 _James turned towards the saloon where Bart would doubtless be exiting soon. "I must agree with you, my dear. He's a fine man." His smile became less sincere and more mischievous. "You certainly landed the better of the two."_

 _Doralice laughed and lightly slapped his arm. "James, that's not fair. Bret's a fine man too."_

" _He has his virtues, I suppose."_

 _Before talk about her soon to be brother-in-law could continue, Bart stepped out of the saloon and joined them. "Am I interrupting anything?" He asked, sliding his arm around Doralice._

" _Only a most painful goodbye," James answered with a sigh. He then looked towards the saloon. "Don't tell me Bret won't be joining us."_

" _Fraid not," Bart answered._

" _As if it's not painful enough to leave this exquisite creature, now I am denied the company of your brother."_

" _We'll tell him how hurt you were," Doralice told him._

" _And I'm sure he'll feel terrible," Bart added._

" _Doubtless he will."_

 _The two men looked at each other a moment before Bart offered James his hand. "So long, Jim."_

 _James gave the proffered hand a hearty shake. "The best of luck to you, my friend." He turned his attention to Doralice. "And to you, my dear. I wish you many happy years together."_

 _He leaned down and kissed her cheek this time and tears filled her eyes. James' leaving was turning out to be more difficult than she would have imagined, given that she hadn't known him long. "Goodbye, James. Safe travels, and do come back to see us soon."_

 _James swung up on his horse. "You may count on that, dear lady." With a final tip of his hat, James turned his horse and started out if town. Doralice leaned against her husband-to-be and sighed, hoping it wouldn't be long before Dandy Jim Buckley crossed their path again._

I cleared my throat and attempted to get my bearings about me. "I think it means just what it seemed to mean," I told her. "You wanted Buckley to stay for the wedding and were disappointed that he couldn't."

"But it was such a long time ago," she protested. "Why would I dream about it now?"

"We've been worried about him for the last two days. Why not dream about him now?"

"Really?" she asked. "You think that's all it is?"

I gathered her into my arms and kissed her. "I think that's exactly what it is."

And I prayed there was nothing else lurking in the dark corners of her dreams.

 **Author's Note:** The 'dream' was written by PsychedelicCowgirl.


	4. Mrs Murtaw

Chapter 3 – Mrs. Murtaw

The stage left Little Bend early the next morning, and I was on it. I hadn't gotten any decent sleep the past two nights and it didn't look like I was gonna get any here, at least for a while. Every seat was filled, and for this time of day I seemed to be the only one in need of peace and quiet. We rode all day like that, and it wasn't until Amarillo that three of the passengers got off.

I slept from Amarillo to Harding Station in New Mexico. That was a stopover for breakfast, and I was starved by that time. What I would have given for anything that Doralice cooked. I won't say the food was terrible, but it tasted like terrible's first cousin. At least the coffee was good, and with a full but disgruntled belly, I went back to sleep. We had different passengers but the coach wasn't full, and this bunch wasn't as chatty. I woke up later that day and was drawn out of sheer politeness into conversation with a man on his way to Grand Junction.

"Pretty little town," the man told me. His name was Chester Ellis and he was a tailor. I asked him how long he'd lived in Grand Junction and he said it had been about three years.

I was almost afraid to ask about Dandy, but I finally did. "Are you familiar with Dandy Jim Buckley, by any chance?"

He gave it some thought before shaking his head. "No, I don't know anybody by the name of Buckley. Is he a friend of yours?"

"He . . . is." I hesitated before I finished my answer, and I felt guilty about the hesitation. "But I don't know if he lives there or is just stayin' for a while."

"Well, if he lives there you'll be able to find him. The place isn't that big."

I wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing. We stayed overnight in Pueblo, Colorado, and started out the next morning for Grand Junction. By the time we got there it was cold and dark, and the only thing I wanted was a bath, followed by a soft bed. Fortunately, the Grand Junction Hotel had both. And they had a dining room that served decent food, as I discovered the next morning.

Once I had something edible in my stomach I went back to the front desk. I was too tired when I checked in to inquire about Dandy, so that was my goal now. The clerk allowed me to check the roster of guests after receipt of a crisp twenty-dollar bill, but there was no Buckley registered in the last thirty days. "What about before that?" I asked. "He could have been here but moved out since."

"You're welcome to look," I was told, and I followed the guest list for the last six months. Nothing there, either. "The name's not familiar to you at all?"

The clerk shook his head. He was a nondescript fellow, medium height, medium build, medium bland, and he finally took pity on me. "Look, Mr. Maverick, I've only been in town for two months. You need to go see Sheriff Bosworth. If Jake can't help you, nobody can."

So I headed off to the sheriff's office. Ellis, the tailor, had been right. The town wasn't that big.

Jake Bosworth wasn't a large man, but he had a manner about him that made you want to obey him. I introduced myself and we shook hands, then I went about explaining that I was looking for an old friend of mine, Dandy Jim Buckley.

Bosworth looked somewhat startled to hear the name, but didn't hesitate to give me an answer. "James Buckley, sure I know James. Ain't too many in this town don't. Just never heard him called . . . what was that, again? Dandy Jim? Been a long time since you've seen him, Mr. Maverick?"

"Yes, sheriff, it has. Years, as a matter of fact. But a mutual acquaintance of ours ran into him and told me where he was, and I wanted to come up and see him. We've got some . . . um, unfinished business, you might say, and I heard . . . well, what I heard was worrisome."

There was a change in attitude, a subtle change, as soon as I mentioned unfinished business. I'm not sure what the sheriff was expecting from me, but it was almost as if he got . . . protective.

"I can get a message to James, Mr. Maverick. That's about the best I can do for you. Then, if he wants to see you, he can contact you. Are you staying over at the hotel?"

"Wait a minute, sheriff. I don't know what kind of an idea you got when I said unfinished business, but I assure you that I intend to do no harm to Jim. I've come a long way to see him, and I didn't endure the trip just to sit in a hotel room. Can you get a message to him now? Tell him Bart's here and I'd really like to talk to him?"

Bosworth whistled, and a boy of no more than fourteen or fifteen came through the back door of the jail. "Take this to Mr. Buckley," he instructed as he handed the boy a piece of paper folded in half. "And wait for an answer." The kid nodded and ran out the front door, paper clutched in hand.

The sheriff started asking questions, as if he was trying to kill time until the boy could come back with the answers. "You were a business associate of James Buckley?"

"In a manner of speaking." I was trying to answer the sheriff without giving too much away. Assuming that Dandy would rather not have his personal life too well-known.

"What kind of business were you in?"

I gave that one some thought. "Merchandise distribution." That was just a small exaggeration.

"And what was the merchandise you dealt with?"

"Why do you need to know this, Sheriff? That was all years ago. Neither of us is in the same business anymore."

"Let's just say . . . I want to be sure that James isn't taken advantage of." One more time Bosworth gave me a look that made me wonder what Jim was mixed up in. Before I could start asking a few questions of my own, the front door opened and the kid reappeared, out of breath. He left the note with Bosworth and went out the back door. Jake Bosworth opened the paper and read it, then got a smile on his face. "Mr. Maverick, James would like to see you. Are you free at the present time?"

"I am, sheriff, since the only reason I came to Grand Junction was to see Dandy, I would definitely say I'm free at the present time. "

"Alright, sir, come with me." I followed the sheriff outside and down the street; there was another street with a row of houses behind the buildings. Bosworth took me to a house that sat behind a white fence. It was blue, with white shutters and two big trees in the front yard. "This is it, Mr. Maverick," he announced.

"This is Buckley's house?" I don't know why that seemed so odd to me, but it did.

"Yes. He has a live-in housekeeper named Mrs. Murtaw. She's a lovely lady, tries to take care of everything James needs."

"Is he married?" I finally asked.

"No, no, James isn't married."

"And what about his son? Does Jack live with him?"

Bosworth shook his head. "No, Jack doesn't live in Grand Junction. But he does come to visit quite often. He's a good boy." I don't think the sheriff had it quite right. Jack was no longer a boy, but rather a man. I think I'd been stalling, wanting to see Jim but not wanting to see him, and it was time to quit acting like a five-year-old and face the man that had been my very good friend.

"Well, thanks, sheriff. I appreciate the help."

"Mr. Maverick . . . look, whatever your differences were in the past, don't be too hard on James. He's been through a lot, and most of us are pretty fond of him."

"I . . . I don't know what to say. I'll be fair, sheriff, that's the best I can promise."

"Good enough. Good luck, Mr. Maverick." We shook hands and Bosworth headed back towards the jail. I opened the gate and went up the steps, knocking at the door until Mrs. Murtaw appeared. She was in her fifties, brown hair, tall and slim, with a ready smile.

"Hello. You must be Mr. Maverick. Please come in. Mr. Buckley is in the study waiting for you."


	5. Dandy in Disguise

Chapter 4 – Dandy in Disguise

I stepped inside the house and was . . . surprised. It was neat and clean, that I expected with a live-in housekeeper. But that's not all . . . it was elegant, conservative, tasteful. There was a sitting room, with a settee, three chairs, a decorative chest that held several houseplants, and a sideboard full of china and crystal. The sitting room led to two separate rooms, a dining room on the left and what looked to be the study on the right. There was a mahogany table and seven chairs in the dining room; the table was ready to host a dinner party. I turned to the right and found a room with a desk and several bookshelves, and a small table with two comfortable looking chairs round it in the far corner.

A man was sitting behind the desk. He appeared thin, very, very thin, with hair almost entirely silver. He was dressed elegantly in what looked to be silk pajamas and a dressing gown. There was something familiar about him, and yet I couldn't quite place him. Until he opened his mouth and spoke to me.

"Bart Maverick, as I live and breathe. I would never have expected you to show up here." English accent and all, it was Dandy Jim Buckley. We were somewhere around the same age, but Jim looked at least ten years older than me. I half expected him to stand up, yet he didn't, and when he made his way out from behind the desk, I saw why – Jim was in a wheelchair. "Well, say something, old boy."

I finally moved closer and reached out to shake hands with him. "I . . . I . . . it's been a long time, Jim."

Something dawned on him, then. "Ah, I see, it's the chair. It's a necessity these days, I'm afraid."

Mrs. Murtaw padded into the room, carrying a silver tray with a coffee pot and two cups. She set it down on the table at the far end of the room, then proceeded to pour a cup before gazing at me. "Coffee, Mr. Maverick?"

I nodded my head, still at a loss for words. Jim wheeled back to the table, and I followed him. Mrs. Murtaw moved one of the chairs away from the table, and Jim maneuvered into its place while indicating that I should take the other chair. "Cream or sugar?" Mrs. Murtaw inquired, as I sat down.

"Neither, thank you," I managed to say.

The housekeeper poured a small amount of cream into Jim's coffee before asking, "Anything else I can bring you, gentlemen?"

"Have you had breakfast, old boy?" Jim asked, and once again I nodded. "That will be all, thank you, Mrs. Murtaw." She left us then, closing the study doors behind her. I continued to sit and stare at Jim for another minute or so until I once again found my voice.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to stare. I didn't know . . ."

"About the wheelchair? That, I'm afraid, is a more recent development. Between the pain and the lack of strength in my legs, I simply can't handle walking any longer."

"How long . . . ?"

"Have I been this way? Let's see, getting on to a year, I would say. Jack had just come to stay for a week or two, and I began having pains in my stomach. It hurt when I ate, it hurt when I didn't eat. It was a rapid deterioration, I'm afraid." Jim drank some of his coffee and looked right at me. "You must have heard from someone up here, and they've most likely led you astray. Let's see, I ran into that funny fellow – the one that took care of the hole in the wall you grew up in. What was it – the Little Bend Bar? And his name was . . . "

"Ray. Ray Ames. He wrote to somebody in town. I heard you were . . . sick." Of course, I'd heard more than that, but I had no intention of asking Buckley if he was dying. At least not right then.

"That's it. Ames. He always made me laugh, he had such affection for the Maverick family. What did he tell you? That I was sick? Well, that's certainly been true. But what would get you to come all the way up here?" Dandy drank the rest of his coffee and poured himself another cup. This time he reached into the pocket of his dressing gown and pulled out a small flask, proceeding to pour it into his coffee instead of the cream. "Still not drinking, old boy? It's good brandy." He held the flask out to me and I took it, pouring about half a shot into my coffee cup. "Well, things do change, don't they?"

I felt the need for the brandy, something to steady my nerves. Dandy sounded the same as always, but that was as far as it went. There was no doubt in my mind that Ray had been correct in his assumption that Jim was dying.

"When did you . . . buy the house?" I had a lot of questions to ask, and a lot of things to say, but I needed to be calmer, steadier than I was. So I took the coward's way out and changed the subject.

"Ah, pretty little thing, isn't it? Actually, I didn't; the house belonged to Janet."

"Janet?"

"Janet. Janet Stinson. I wrote to Doralice about her. Didn't she tell you?"

He wrote about Janet to Doralice. Dandy had written to my wife, and I knew nothing about it. "No," I managed to answer without stuttering. I was sure that Doralice must have had a good reason for not telling me about it. I just couldn't understand what it was.

Jim sighed and set his coffee cup down. "Janet was . . . the reason I came to Grand Junction. She was . . . my wife."

"Your . . . wife? But the sheriff said . . . you weren't . . . married."

"I'm not, Bart. Janet died over two years ago."

"She . . . she died . . . "

"Yes, old boy. Over two years ago."

I needed . . . I don't know what I needed. I'd had too many shocks this morning, one right after another, ever since I walked into this house. Dandy had a home, and a live-in housekeeper, and a wheelchair. And he'd had a wife. I was overwhelmed; it was too much to digest all at once.

"Are you alright? You've gotten a bit pale, Bart. Do you need to lie down? I have a spare bedroom, you'd be perfectly comfortable in there."

I shook my head. "No, Jim, I'm fine. I didn't expect . . . didn't expect any of this." The flask was sitting on the table. "Do you mind?" I asked, and pointed to the brandy.

"Help yourself, old boy," came the swift reply, and I did, pouring a full shot into my cup, then following it with coffee, and a bit of cream to cut the taste of the liquor. It was warm and steadying all the way down.

"I didn't know any of this, Dandy. Tell me about Janet."

"That would be a very long story, and I'm afraid I'm feeling rather worn out. And we haven't talked about you and yours at all. How long are you staying in Grand Junction?"

I gave him the most honest answer I could give him. "As long as it takes to do what needs to be done."

"Then why don't you join me for supper this evening? Say, about six o'clock?"

"Alright." I'd be more than grateful to spend some time alone, examining the things I'd learned this morning. And maybe finding out a little more about the sheriff's obvious respect and affection for my former friend. There was more to this story than I'd expected there to be, and I needed to know everything I could about the present before I had a solution to what had happened in the past. "I'll be here at six."


	6. Questions Without Answers

Chapter 5 – Questions Without Answers

I lay in bed and tried to absorb everything I'd learned this morning. At some point the knowledge in my head and the brandy in my bloodstream got to be too much, and I fell asleep. It didn't do me any good; I woke up some hours later just as confused as I'd been when I went to sleep. I finally got a piece of paper and a pen and wrote down what I knew and what I assumed.

It was quite a list, and I needed to know more about a lot of the things Jim had told me. Since the sheriff was the only man in town I'd met besides Buckley, I decided to pay Jake Bosworth another visit. I found the lawman doing what I'd been doing, napping, and almost felt guilty about waking him. Almost.

"What? Huh? Who is . . . oh, Mr. Maverick. Something wrong? Is Mr. Buckley alright?"

"Jim is fine, sheriff, worn out, but fine. I wanted to come by and let you know that I've been invited back for supper tonight, but I could really use some help from you before then."

"What can I do for you?"

"Tell me what you know about Janet Stinson. You kind of misled me when I asked if he was married."

"I told you the truth. James isn't married. Why don't you ask him about Janet?"

I sighed. "Oh, I'm going to. But he seems to get tired out fairly easily, and there's other things I need to discuss with him. He said she was from Grand Junction. Did they meet here?"

"I shouldn't be telling you this," Bosworth insisted. "But I will, because you could find out from anyone. Janet Stinson was born here, and she never went anywhere until one spring when she traveled to Denver for some teachin' experience. Miss Hunter was gonna retire and Janet was hired to take over in her stead. She met James in Denver, and when she came back to Grand Junction she brought a brand new husband with her. There was some gossip that James was after her money, but Janet didn't have any. The only thing she had was that little house.

"If you saw them together, you knew. They really loved each other. Right up until the day she died."

"How long were they married?" Jim hadn't told me the answer to that question.

"Let's see. A little over a year. No, closer to two years. They were gettin' ready for the baby . . .

"There was a baby?"

The look on Bosworth's face was one of profound sadness. "There was supposed to be a baby. But everything that could go wrong, did. They lost the baby, and then they lost Janet. James was inconsolable. Just like that, she was gone. And he was never the same afterwards."

"What did he do then?"

"He picked up and left town. Got Mrs. Murtaw to move into the house and get it ready for him to sell. He was gone almost three months, and when he got back he was . . . different. The town was tryin' to raise enough money for a new school, and they had a little less than half of what they needed. James supplied the rest of the funds, asking only that they name the school after Janet. Said a good friend of his lost his wife, and built a school for her, too. That's where he got the idea."

I swallowed hard. The good friend was, of course, me. One night when I was feeling particularly melancholy I told Dandy about gettin' the school built for the kids in Magdalena, and he got it stuck in his head. He didn't remember it quite the way I told it, but that was alright. Jim always had a slightly skewed idea of how to do things. And I could just imagine where he was and what he was doing for the three months he was gone, 'raising funds' for the school. He made himself a hero, as well as Janet.

"And after the school was finished and dedicated . . . he stayed here rather than goin' back to Denver or someplace else?" _'Of course he would,'_ I thought. _'Why wouldn't he? The whole town loved him.'_

"He wasn't going to, but he decided to stay for a while. Then he got sick, and the best place for him was here, where he could be taken care of properly."

"I see." I really didn't, but then I'd never understood the majority of things Dandy did. Most of his reasons were unfathomable to me, as I'm sure mine were to him. My views on life and the people around me had changed dramatically over the years; I don't think Jim's had.

"Mr. Maverick, why are you so curious about what happened here in Grand Junction? You knew him before he came here, does he seem so very different from the man he was years ago?"

"Yes, Sheriff, he does. The man I knew doesn't appear to exist anymore." I wasn't entirely sure that was true, but the man in that wheelchair was different from the Jim Buckley I got into so much trouble with. Unless . . . unless this was all one giant con and Dandy was just biding his time before springing the trap.

Only thing is . . . I couldn't figure out what Dandy had to gain.

XXXXXXXX

I took great care getting dressed for my supper engagement with James. Yes, I said James, because that's who I was going to see tonight. I wasn't sure where Dandy Jim Buckley had disappeared to; I wasn't even sure he still existed. If he did, by God, I was gonna find him and bring him into the present. He was the one I had a rather large bone to pick with, the frustrating, loveable con man who had almost delayed my wedding, cost me a small fortune, and held me in the grip of a lie I'd told half a lifetime ago.

Anyway, I made sure that I looked like I was going to a meeting with the town council. Yes, over the years Little Bend had grown big enough to have a town council. A Mayor, too. And yes, between my brother and my wife they'd talked me into running for and getting elected to that same council. It seemed there was just no end of respectability for me, whether I wanted it or not.

Mrs. Murtaw answered the door and welcomed me in. "He's in the study, Mr. Maverick. Jake Bosworth is in there with him."

No doubt, Bosworth had informed him of our earlier conversation. They were just finishing when I walked in. "Bart, old boy, come in. Jake was just leaving, weren't you, Jake?" Bosworth tipped his hat and left the study, closing the door behind him.

"Getting a full report?" I asked.

"Quite. You couldn't wait for me to tell you?"

"I didn't want to wear you out. We have other things to discuss."

"Like my writing to your wife?" Short, sharp and to the point.

I smirked and sat down. "Among other things."

For the first time, James took a good look at me. "My, my, old boy. You've become quite prosperous, haven't you? No more one-step away from being thrown in jail?"

Before I could give him any kind of an answer, the study door opened. "Dinner is served, gentlemen," Mrs. Murtaw announced, and I followed the wheelchair into the dining room. Mrs. Murtaw served us and then withdrew. As I soon found out, she was an excellent cook. There was little said until the meal was almost finished.

"You seem to have found a jewel in Mrs. Murtaw."

A nod accompanied his answer. "Yes, she is quite a talented lady. Though why she puts up with me, I have no idea."

"Why did you stay in Grand Junction? After Janet's death, I mean? What was there here that kept you from moving on?"

"To be perfectly honest . . . I was tired. Worn out, you might say. Tired of being run out of town . . . or running for the skin on my back. You understand how that is, when you just don't have it in you to leave one more place. Isn't it what kept you in that little town you live in?"

That was a strange question. He knew exactly what kept me in Little Bend, and it had nothing to do with being tired of moving from one place to another. Her name was Doralice, and all I wanted was to be wherever she was. "No. You know why I stayed in Little Bend. Doralice. But you didn't have that here. What was it, Jim? The adulation from an entire town? The chance to pull one more con?"

"I'm surprised, Bart. You changed your life completely around – don't you think I might have wanted to change mine?"

I never considered that. But the answer I kept coming up with was 'no.'


	7. Secrets and Lies

Chapter 6 – Secrets and Lies

"I'm surprised, Bart. You changed your life completely around – don't you think I might have wanted to change mine?"

That was the question that kept playing in my head when we adjourned to the parlor. No matter how much I doubted Dandy wanting to change his life, there was always the possibility that he'd decided to do just that. As he pointed out, I'd changed mine. This one was worth thinking about.

"When did you start writing to Doralice?"

Once again, Mrs. Murtaw brought us coffee. James waited until she'd poured for us and left the room before answering. "I didn't 'start writing' to her. I wrote to her twice – once right after I met Janet and was considering asking for her hand in marriage, and again after I lost her. That was the only communication I had with your wife."

"Did she answer you?"

"The briefest of notes before we wed. Not much more than 'congratulations.' After Janet died, she wrote a lengthy letter of condolence. It was quite sweet, actually, and comforting. I believe I still have it if you'd like to read it."

Dandy being sentimental? Was that even possible? Maybe he really had changed. I still wasn't convinced.

"So tell me about yourself. It doesn't look like you're still running the saloon."

"Actually I am. I only go into town about once a week. I've got a real good Saloon Manager, been with me a long time. He handles all the day to day things."

"And the rest of your time? A life of leisure, perhaps?"

That made me laugh. "Bret and me, we've got a horse-breeding ranch. The B Bar M. We cross-breed pure-blooded Arabians with most anything. Been at it quite a while now. But it's anything but a life of leisure."

"Still in Little Bend?"

I shook my head. "A few miles out. Beau got married and moved to Baton Rouge, and eventually Uncle Ben went to live with him. Bret and me bought Ben's old place and built the ranch."

"Ah, yes. How is old Brother Bret? Still as difficult as ever?"

"If you mean is Bret still Bret, the answer would be yes. He still goes off to play poker now and again, but mostly he's happy being at the ranch."

"Did he ever marry that Pinkerton agent?" There was a tone in Dandy's voice that I couldn't quite identify.

"You mean Ginny Malone? Yeah, they got married. They've got three delightful children . . . I guess they're still young enough to be called children. Two boys and a girl."

"And you, my friend? What about you and that beautiful woman?"

"Still together, after all this time. We raised five of our own."

"Five? You and Doralice had five?"

I poured myself another cup of coffee, Dandy waved any more off. "Three girls and two boys. The two oldest girls are twins."

"You've been busy, old man." I noticed that the familiar had changed from 'old boy' to 'old man.'

"I have been. And it's been a good life, Jim. Sometimes . . . " That was as far as I could go.

"Sometimes what?"

"Sometimes I wished you'd been in it."

XXXXXXXX

It wasn't long after that Mrs. Murtaw came in to retrieve what was left of the coffee and remind Jim it was time to retire. I pulled out my watch and looked at it . . . it was only ten o'clock. "He needs his rest," she informed me, but before she could wheel him away he issued another invitation.

"Lunch, tomorrow. Say, one o'clock? Is that acceptable, Mrs. Murtaw?" He asked her laughingly, almost like a small boy would ask his mother.

"As long as you have your nap before lunch," came the quick reply.

"One o'clock then, Bart? Unless you have something else planned?"

"One o'clock is fine, Jim. But I feel odd – you keep feeding me."

"It's easier this way," Mrs. Murtaw explained. "He does go out, but not that often. Usually on Friday nights, that's when Katie McCluskey's has what they call Prime Rib for dinner."

"Yes, and that's only two days from now. Can I count on your company, Bart? Will you still be in Grand Junction?"

There was no doubt in my mind that I would still be here. "I will be, and I'll be happy to accompany you. As long as you let me pay for dinner."

"If you insist. Don't forget, now. Tomorrow at one o'clock for lunch. Take me away, Mrs. Murtaw."

And I watched as she wheeled him out of the parlor and down another hallway. I saw myself out and headed back to the hotel. I didn't understand the man in the wheelchair any better than I had when I got there.

XXXXXXXX

After breakfast the next morning I headed for the offices of the Grand Junction Herald, the town's newspaper. With some help from one of the employees, I pulled seven or eight different editions from the last two years. I found a small story about Janet going to Denver for some training, then an even smaller story announcing that Miss Janet Stinson and Mr. James Buckley had been married in Denver.

There was a much larger spread when the newlyweds returned to Grand Junction. Janet was interviewed, and there was even a description of Jim and a quote from the bridegroom. "I never thought this would happen to me. Janet is so perfect in every way . . . I look forward to a long and happy married life."

The next thing I found was a full column regarding the death of Janet Buckley and the Buckley baby. There was nothing about Jim; no description, no quotes, nothing at all. Exactly one week later there was an announcement that the bereaved widower had left town and the little house would be up for sale when he returned.

There had been two or three articles regarding the effort to build a new school, and the fund-raising involved. The headline some three months later read: Funding Complete Thanks to James Buckley. The story went on the explain that Buckley had returned to town and brought with him enough money to complete building the school, to be named the Janet Buckley Grand Junction Elementary School.

There was one more article in the paper, the week after the new school's dedication. It spoke about the building and completion and lauded Mr. Buckley for his undying dedication to his wife's dream of a new school. Everything I read agreed completely with the stories Jake Bosworth and Jim told me. Why did I have a feeling there was something missing, something that wasn't explained by the newspaper articles?

"Is that it?" I asked the girl that had assisted me before.

"That's all I have, except for this one little article. But it doesn't mention Mr. Buckley, just Janet."

I glanced at it quickly. It was about a two-week trip that Janet had taken to Denver. The paper said she'd gone to attend some kind of state-mandated teacher's education class. Jim hadn't mentioned that, but then why should he?

I was at a loss. Was I letting my prejudice and resentment color my judgment? Was everything really as it seemed? Was I conjuring up problems where there were none? Maybe I was just trying to put off the inevitable. . . the reason I'd come to Grand Junction. To confront Dandy Jim Buckley about the shabby way he'd treated my helping hand all those years ago.


	8. Corinne

Chapter 7 – Corinne

I spent the rest of the morning at the Land Development office, searching the property records in the county. Just in case Dandy had forgotten to tell me about any property he owned. There was none.

I went back to the hotel and stopped at the front desk, and was surprised to find a message there _. 'If you'd like to know more about Janet Stinson, come to Denam's Tobacco Store this afternoon and ask for Corinne.'_

I was intrigued by this unsolicited message. I would have gone right now, but there was just enough time for me to get freshened up and head over for lunch at Dandy's. I put the note in my pocket and bounded upstairs to my room, washed my face and hands, and changed coats and hats. I had to hurry, but I arrived at the blue house with the white fence right on time. It took a minute longer than usual for the door to open; when it did, Dandy was behind it. "Mrs. Murtaw's in the kitchen. Please, come in."

We went back to the study; I held the door and Jim wheeled over to his desk and opened his humidor. "Join me?"

"Thanks." I struck a match and lit first Jim's cigar, then mine. I took a deep draw and blew the smoke out. "These come from Denam's?"

"They did. Have you been to Denam's yet?"

"Nope. I saw the sign when I was walkin' around this mornin'. Didn't get in there yet." But now I had a legitimate excuse.

We both smoked for five minutes before Jim said anything. "You never did say what you were doing in Grand Junction."

"Didn't I? That's easy – I came to see you."

The look I got was pure puzzlement. "Why?"

"Because Ray Ames said you were dying. And because it was time."

"Time for what, Bart?"

"Time for an explanation. Or an understanding. Whatever you want to call it."

"Really? After all these years?"

Mrs. Murtaw's timing was perfect. "Lunch is served in the dining room, gentlemen."

We both followed her in and were once again treated to an outstanding meal. For the first time I noticed that Jim ate about one-third of what was put in front of him. I hadn't paid attention before and wondered if that was all he usually had. If so, that would definitely account for how thin he was.

Just as we finished, the housekeeper appeared again. "Coffee in the study, gentlemen?"

I made my decision then and decided my talk with Jim could wait. I wanted; no, needed, to know whatever it was that Corinne had to say about Janet Stinson Buckley. "No, thank you, Mrs. Murtaw. I have a previous commitment. Thank you for another excellent meal. Dandy, I have to go."

There was a look of disappointment on his face, but I had a burning desire to hear whatever the young lady at the tobacco shop had to say. Before I finally said my piece to Jim. "What about supper tonight? Could you . . . ?"

I didn't let him finish. "No, I'm sorry, I can't. Haven't you seen enough of me in the last two days to be positively sick of me by this time?"

"Breakfast tomorrow? Say at ten?" There was a hopeful note in his voice, and I found myself answering him in the affirmative.

"Alright, that should work. I'll see you then. Mrs. Murtaw, thank you again."

I couldn't help but wonder why he kept inviting me back. He knew I had something more than just 'Good morning' to say to him, I'd told him that before lunch. Considering how long we'd avoided the subject of Jim's 'betrayal,' maybe he just wanted to get it over with. In any event, I let myself out the front door and headed to Denam's, and the mysterious Corinne.

XXXXXXXX

"May I help you?" the young woman asked sweetly. She was twenty-five, maybe thirty years old, with brown hair and blue eyes. There was no one in the store but the two of us.

"Yes, ma'am," I answered. "Are you Corinne?"

Those blue eyes got dark quickly. "I am," she stated flatly.

I pulled the note from my pocket and laid it on the counter. "This Corinne?"

"And you're Mister Maverick."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Just who are you, Mister Maverick?"

"First off, it's Bart, not Mister Maverick. Second, I'm a . . . friend of Jim Buckley's."

She looked at me skeptically for a minute or two before nodding her head. "And you didn't know Janet at all?"

"I had no idea the lady even existed."

That seemed to satisfy her. "Tell me, Mist . . . Bart, what brought you to Grand Junction?"

"I heard . . . that Jim wasn't well."

"And you were such a good friend that you had to rush right up here and see how he was?"

"Look, Corinne . . . you're the one that invited me over here. If you don't have any information for me, then I have no reason to stay."

She walked around the back of the counter and closed and locked the front door, then turned the sign over that said 'Closed.' "I'm sorry. You're right, and maybe after I tell you what I know you'll be more willing to answer my questions. My full name is Corinne Stinson. Janet was my sister."


	9. Decisions, Decisions, Decisions

Chapter 8 – Decisions, Decisions, Decisions

I stared at her for I don't know how long before I said anything. "Jim didn't tell me he had a sister-in-law."

"We're not on speaking terms."

"And why is that?"

"Because, Mr. Maverick, I think that James Buckley killed my sister."

Dandy Jim Buckley might have been a lot of things during his lifetime – con man, card cheat, swindler, thief, liar, and utterly untrustworthy. But the one thing that he was not was a murderer. And that I was sure of. "You think Jim killed her? But . . . didn't she die in childbirth?" She looked at me like I was stupid, and I felt that way.

Corinne lowered her voice and explained. "I don't mean he took a gun and shot her. He was more subtle than that, but he killed her just the same. I assume you know his son Jack?"

I nodded. "Although I haven't seen him since he was a boy."

"Jack wasn't enough for him. He wanted Janet to have a baby. And she never should have tried. She was small and frail, not big enough or strong enough to give birth to a child. She was sick and ailing the whole time she carried that child. When her time came to give birth, it was like her body was fighting her. Everything that could go wrong did. It was a little girl they named Nell, and she didn't live twenty-four hours. And from there it was all downhill. Janet kept bleeding, and nothing the doctor could do stopped it. Before I could even say goodbye to her, she was gone."

She started to cry, and before I knew it I had Corinne Stinson clinging to me and sobbing. "And he never even . . . acted like . . . he was sorry."

I don't do well with crying women – my wife would be the first to agree with that. All any of my girls have to do is turn on the tears and I fall apart. Corinne Stinson had just taken her life into her hands, and she didn't even know it. The only thing I could do was hold on and let her cry herself out, which she did, eventually.

"How do you know it was Jim that wanted the baby? Maybe Janet wanted one, too." That seemed to be the most reasonable answer to me; I just didn't know if it was the right answer.

"Oh, she wanted the baby. She wanted to make him happy, and if it was gonna take a baby to do it, then she was all for it. And it killed her."

"Corinne, what if you're wrong? Everybody I've heard from seems to think Jim was really inconsolable when he lost Janet. What if it wasn't his idea at all?"

"Ask him."

"What?"

"Ask him."

"I will. Anything else?"

"Isn't that enough?"

I gripped her firmly by the shoulders and made her stand upright, no longer leaning on me. "This isn't any of my business, Corinne. What I came here for has nothing to do with Janet or anything that happened to her. Why did you think I should know all this?"

"I thought . . . I thought you might be a lawman. Come to get him for something in the past . . . but you're not, are you?"

I shook my head and looked her right in the eyes. "No. No, I'm not. I'm just an old friend who hasn't seen Jim Buckley in a long time." We stood there awkwardly for a minute, until I finally asked, "Have you tried to talk to Jim about this?"

"After Janet . . . passed."

"Not since then?"

Her head shook, but she didn't say anything. "Don't you think it might help both of you if you did? What if you're wrong, and you've blamed him for something that wasn't his fault all this time?" I got no further response from Corinne, and I finally let go of her shoulders and unlocked the front door. "Goodbye, Corinne."

Back to the hotel I went. I had a lot to think about.

XXXXXXXX

I opened my eyes slowly, not quite sure where I was. It took me another minute to remember that I was in Grand Junction, Colorado, and I was here to see Jim Buckley. The past three days all came back to me slowly, and as I sat up I wondered what I was gonna do next.

I knew what I should do – I should get out of bed, get dressed and go tell Jim all the things I'd kept bottled up inside of me for the last I don't know how many years. When I made the decision to kick Dandy out of Little Bend before Doralice and me got married, I never expected our estrangement to go on this long, or for it to bother me this much. But it had bothered me this much, especially the last few years, yet I'd made no attempt to straighten things out until . . . until I heard that Jim was dying.

So now I'd been here part of a week, and I still hadn't told him what I had to say or tried to resolve the issue. What was I waiting for? Some courage, perhaps?

Maybe I didn't want to confront Jim. Maybe that's why, in all this time, I'd made no effort to tear down the wall that had been built up between us. The way things had stood for years, we had kind of an uneasy respite. If I finally told him what I really felt, there would be no resolve, no peace, no truce. Just the end of what had been a remarkable friendship.

I sighed, then got up from the bed and got dressed. It was time to figure out, once and for all, what I was gonna do. That meant it was time to go play some poker.

There were two saloons in town, and I stopped at the one right next door to the hotel – the Grand Junction Pleasure Palace. There were only two games being played, but there was an empty chair at one of them, and I was welcomed in. I ordered my usual black coffee, and spent the next several hours playing draw poker and letting my mind find its own level of comfort. Two or three times Jim's name came up, and it seems he was thought of quite favorably, especially by the businessmen and ranchers in the area; Brother Bret would have choked if he'd heard all the complimentary things said. I was beginning to think I was in the wrong town; either that or I was listening to accolades for the wrong person. Not one thing was said that reminded me of the con man I'd known and gotten into trouble with.

I took my leave from the game around seven o'clock the next morning. I wish I could say my head was clear and I knew exactly how I was gonna handle things, but I was just as confused as I'd been when I began playing poker the night before. On the one hand, I had all my own experiences with Dandy Jim Buckley; the cad, thief, no account swindler that I'd spent so much of my time with when I was younger. We'd gotten thrown in jail together and broken out of jail together; he'd made me laugh like nobody else, he saved my life on more than one occasion. And took advantage of me the one time in that life I'd begged him not to.

On the other hand, I had practically every single person in Grand Junction, Colorado, telling me what a swell fellow James Buckley was; how he'd thought only of the town and its loss to give the city what they needed but couldn't provide for themselves. How he'd denied his own grief to do something useful and fine for the children, now and future generations.

And I still didn't know which one was the real Dandy Jim Buckley. 


	10. Sorry

Chapter 9 – Sorry

"Bart, you haven't said five words all morning."

I couldn't argue with Dandy, he was right. I wasn't fit company for man nor beast, and Dandy surely must have qualified as one of those. "Dandy . . . "

"That's six."

We were sitting in the study, drinking coffee and smoking cigars. I'd joined Jim at ten o'clock for breakfast, as agreed, but I still had no resolution to the dilemma I found myself in. Forgive what still weighed so heavily on my mind after all these years, or have my say with the man that used to be a good friend? I felt tied in knots, unable to make a decision.

"There's been something on your mind ever since you first got here. What is it?"

At that moment I made a choice. I was never gonna be able to live the rest of my life without telling him what I felt, how betrayed I felt, when it all happened. How the recollection of that pain lingered all these years later, and how I resented that every good memory I had of Jim Buckley was tinged with regret over the way our friendship ended. I got up from the chair at the back of the room and wandered around the study, trying to get the words out.

"Remember when I'd been shot, and you showed up in Little Bend flat broke?" Jim said nothing, just sat in his wheelchair and stared at me. "You do remember that you came to me literally begging for a job, don't you?" I asked, finally.

"I remember," he replied. "And you went out of your way to help."

"To help. I bought you clothes. I moved you to the hotel and out of McGinley's. I got you a job at Maude's. And all I asked . . . all I asked, was that you treat Maude's fair and square. No cheating, no stealing, no doing anything illegal or immoral. And you swore. You swore to me that you'd behave." I walked towards the desk and turned my back on the man I'd called friend. I couldn't bear to look at him just then. "You lied, Jim. You lied to my face. I was trying to heal, getting well so that Doralice and me could get married. You made me a promise and then you showed me exactly what you thought of that promise. And it wasn't much."

There was no response, and I turned around so that I could see his face. It was impassive. I know mine wasn't. I'd waited years to tell Dandy how he'd made me feel, how disappointed and hurt I'd been that our friendship and his word meant so little that he could ignore both. I tried to hold onto my temper and lay everything out for him the way I'd gone over it in my mind so many times. I didn't do a good job. The only thing I managed was to keep the volume of my voice at normal levels. The last thing I wanted or needed was to bring Mrs. Murtaw running in, wondering if I was hurting her employer.

"You didn't even hide it well. It was easy for me to find, once I started looking for discrepancies in the books. Fourteen hundred dollars, and how much more would you have skimmed if I hadn't put an end to it?" I'd stopped pacing and stood stock still, waiting for some kind of a response; any kind. There was none. "Why, Jim? Why did you do it? If you wanted a stake so you could leave, why didn't you ask me? Giving it to you would have been preferable to finding out you'd stolen it. I almost could have understood if you'd taken it from Bret; but it was me, Jim. Me."

I found myself at his desk and set my coffee cup down. I took a breath; I had more to say. "And all the time since then. Never a word, a hint that you even remembered. Everything that happened with Jack, all the years since then. Nothing from you. Nothing. Just like it never happened.

"Is that what you think; is that your truth? That if you ignore it and wait long enough it'll all just disappear? Like it never happened? It did happen, Jim, and I want to know why? I need to know why. I thought . . . there was a time I thought we were closer than me and Bret . . . how could you just throw that all away?"

I couldn't see his face anymore; he'd turned the wheelchair to face the wall. But I could hear his voice, and I heard regret and sadness, and I couldn't help but wonder why it had taken so long for him to let me know that it pained him, too. "Don't you see? I had to do it. You expected it, and I couldn't disappoint you. You were my best friend, Bart . . . hell, you were my only friend . . . and you expected me to betray you. Because that's what I did. I cheated and lied, and sooner or later I played every rotten trick in the book on people, no matter who they were. Especially if it made me money.

"I tried not to. I resisted for a long time . . . and then your health started to improve. I knew I had to go, and I needed money to leave. Not that paltry little salary I was making . . . real money. There was only one way to get it. So I did what I always do. And I knew it would cost me the only real friend I had.

"That's why I've stayed away all this time . . . because you were never going to forgive me . . . and I couldn't stand the disappointment in your eyes when you looked at me. It was there when you took care of Jack . . .

"When I met Janet in Denver, I knew she was someone special. Sweet and kind, attractive and educated, she was as lonely as I was. We were kindred spirits, and we felt happier, more peaceful together. I didn't have to be alone anymore . . . so I married her and tried my best to make her happy. And I did, for a while. Then she decided we needed a baby, and she wasn't going to be satisfied until we had one, whether it was what I wanted or not . . . and eventually, I lost both of them. Here I am again. Now I have all this to contend with." He made a sweeping gesture with his hand. "And you still hate me."

If all that was true . . . I had two choices. Believe him or not believe him. I thought about the opinion that almost everyone in this town had of Jim. Could they all be wrong? Or had he really changed over the years? Was this Jim Buckley the braver, kinder, more trustworthy version of Dandy Jim, the man that existed so long ago?

I finally broke the silence. "I don't hate you."

"You don't?"

"No, I don't. I never did, Jim. I just wanted . . . just wanted you to say . . . I wanted you to say you were sorry."

"Bart, old man?"

"What is it, Jim?"

"I'm sorry."


	11. Steak and Tobacco

Chapter 10 – Steak and Tobacco

Two little words. After all these years they'd finally been spoken out loud, and I felt better for having heard them. Even if I'd had to pry them out of the person that had spoken them.

"Was that as difficult as you made it sound?"

"Yes." My old friend looked at me and grinned, and for the first time in years I felt like I was talking to Dandy Jim Buckley. All my nervous energy was gone, and I was able to sit down and quit pacing. I poured more coffee for both of us and asked another question, on an equally touchy subject.

"What does the doctor have to say?"

"You know how physicians are. He doesn't really know what it is, only that it hurts when I eat and hurts when I don't eat. I've given up trying to understand it."

"Did he have a prognosis?" We'd made peace between us; at long last. And I needed to know if Jim was going to stick around for a while.

A shrug of the shoulders followed. "There's a doctor from back east that's coming to Denver next month. He's treated maladies like mine before, and he's already committed to seeing me. I should know more then."

"Are you staying in Grand Junction?" I couldn't see Dandy spending the rest of his days in the town, but then nobody would have bet on my remaining in Little Bend, either.

"Probably. I'm tired, Bart. I have no desire to be chased from one place to another. Especially with the standing I have here. Nobody wants to run me out of town on a rail." He stopped and gave it a moment's thought. "Well, almost nobody."

"Corinne Stinson?"

"You've met her, I presume."

"I have. I think the young lady needs to have a talk with you about her sister."

Jim shook his head. "I'm not sure I could convince her of the truth."

I had an idea. "Would you talk to her if she came by here?"

"How are you going to manage that?"

"Let me worry about that," I answered, hoping I'd be able to convince her to come with me. It was worth a try.

"Today's Friday, old man."

"So it is, Dandy. Are we going to Katie McClusky's tonight? Do you still feel up to it?"

"I'm looking forward to it."

"I have to go, Jim. I have things to do before tonight." I stood and offered my hand. "About seven o'clock?"

We shook on it, and once more I got the Buckley grin. "Perfect. I'll be ready."

I went straight to the Wells Fargo office to send a telegram to Doralice. ' _Issues resolved. Will be home_ _next week. Yours Always, Bart.'_ If I caught the stage to Denver on Monday I could be home in Little Bend by Friday. I bought a ticket for Monday and slipped it into my wallet. Next stop was Denam's. I was fortunate – Corinne was behind the counter and the store was empty.

"Mr. Maverick. I didn't expect to see you again."

"I came because I have a proposition for you, Miss Stinson."

"And what would that be?"

"I want you to agree to go to Mr. Buckley's with me, tomorrow at noon."

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Because you need to hear the truth. And because I asked you to." Now it was up to Corinne to decide.

She stood and stared at me for almost five minutes while she thought it over, before finally making up her mind. "Alright. But I don't guarantee anything."

"All I ask is that you come with me and listen to what Dandy has to say. And thank you for agreeing to go with me. I'll be here tomorrow at noon."

She looked slightly bewildered but nodded her head. I tipped my hat and left. I heard a hotel bed calling my name.

XXXXXXXX

Getting Dandy to Katie McCluskey's was easier said than done, but get him there I did, and the food was well worth the difficulty. Even if Jim only ate half of it. Most everyone in the restaurant stopped at our table at one time or another to say hello to Jim or introduce themselves to me, and they all seemed glad to see him. I probably never would have believed it if I hadn't seen it for myself, but James Buckley was truly loved by the residents of this town.

I appeared promptly at twelve o'clock the next day and took Corinne to Dandy's house. Mrs. Murtaw escorted us into the study and then brought Dandy in; I had hold of Corinne's elbow and felt her stiffen as soon as she saw him, but she allowed me to seat her. Mrs. Murtaw poured coffee for all three of us, then left and closed the study doors behind her. It was deathly silent for too long a moment, and then I cleared my throat and began. "You two both cared about Janet. It's time you understood what happened to her, and why she died. Dandy, tell Corinne what you told me. And make sure it's the truth."

I took my coffee back to the desk and took a seat. I was close enough to hear the conversation but far enough away that it didn't feel like I was eavesdropping. And as far as I could tell, Jim opened his heart and told Corinne the truth, even the painful part about how he really felt about Janet, and how happy they both were to no longer be alone. He explained his ambivalent love for his son and why he didn't find it necessary to have another child and told Corinne all the reasons Janet insisted they have a baby.

I'm sure Corinne didn't believe what she was hearing at first, but I could tell from her expression and the questions she asked that the more Jim explained, the more she realized the truth. A child had been Janet's idea from the start, and nothing Buckley could say or do was going to dissuade her. It took them almost two hours to straighten everything out between them – occasionally it sounded like that wasn't gonna happen. But I knew it had when I saw Corinne give her former brother-in-law a big hug, the look on Dandy's face reflecting his satisfaction with the results of the meeting.

I took Corinne back to the tobacco store, and we parted company. She was in a much happier place than she'd been earlier, and I had the feeling a friendship may have begun. I returned to Jim's and found him, too, in a better frame of mind than before, and I was pleased to have a hand in what appeared to be a reconciliation of sorts.

It looked as if this trip would turn out better than I'd had any reason to hope.


	12. Change of Heart

Chapter 11 – Change of Heart

My last day in Grand Junction was Sunday, and I spent the day with Buckley. He had a buggy, and I persuaded him to take it out in the country; I thought it would do him some good to get fresh air and sunshine. He spent too much time closed up in the blue house. We were gone most of the day. The land surrounding the little town was lush and green; the trees were in full bloom and my old friend seemed genuinely excited to be outdoors.

Mrs. Murtaw packed a lunch for us and I found one of the many lakes Jim told me about. There was plenty of shade, and the breeze even decided to cooperate. Jim seemed more at peace than he had when I first arrived; I know I certainly was. We reminisced about the old times and talked about the last few years. He told me all about Jack and I explained my five and a half (remember Tim Demerest?). They were growing up so fast, it seemed like just yesterday that they were babies, all of them. "You really do love being a father, don't you?"

I grinned like an idiot. "I do. They're the best things I ever did, after marrying Doralice. If this new doctor comin' from Denver can get you straightened out, you'll have to come down and see 'em for yourself."

"I'd like that, Bart." I think he really meant it.

Monday morning I climbed on board the stagecoach and set off for home. It had been a long time since I'd felt this good and my mind had been this clear. No more regrets about what I should have said or done . . . I was relieved to have a solution to the whole matter.

It was early Friday evening when the coach pulled up in front of the Wells Fargo office in Little Bend. I was the last one off and it sounded like dynamite blew up when my family finally saw me. As soon as I kissed my wife I hugged and kissed each one of the kids; I'd never been so glad to see them all. They were a rowdy bunch, but that was alright. They were my rowdy bunch.

"How's James?" Doralice asked me when everything had quieted down some.

"Thin, and frail. But he's got a doctor from back east comin' to see him, and things are lookin' up."

"And how are the two of you? Did you get everything worked out between you?"

I grinned at her. "Yes, ma'am, we did. I feel much better about things now. I'll tell you all about it tonight. What's goin' on at the ranch? Anything exciting?"

As Doralice began telling me all the little things I'd missed, I couldn't help but smile. I was home with the people I loved the most, and when it came to my old friend Dandy Jim Buckley, I'd definitely experienced a change of heart.

The End


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